Early Morning Surprise
by whithore
Summary: Voldemort is obviously intending on destroying the Marauders, one step at a time. Or at least, that's what Potter things. Is James right, or has someone else stolen his coffee mug?


"Early Morning Surprise"

Everyday, James Potter woke up the same way. His alarm clock would go off at exactly 7:15am. He would press snooze twice, averaging another eighteen minutes of rest, and sleep past the second alarm for two minutes before he would turn it off. He would then fumble blindly on the bedside table for his glasses, and would proceed to knock several items off- the alarm clock, an empty glass and the spectacles themselves. Upon his failure to find the glasses, James would get out of bed. He would yelp as his feet touched the cold floor; James Potter would then hop on his right foot onto the rug in the middle of the wooden floor (exactly three and a half hops to the right of his bed) and squiggle his toes on the round swatch of tan shag carpet. He would then make his way from his 'bedroom' in the open plan flat to his 'kitchen'. He would reach into the cupboard with his wand hand and grab his crimson checked mug from the shelf. James Potter would then make himself a strong cup of coffee with three sugars- after all, being energetic before midday was a feat only achievable by sugar highs- and drink it. He would then realise that he had, just like the day before, forgotten to put the milk in. He would pour in the earlier forgotten beverage and then sit down at the small table and drink his coffee, whilst thinking of his dearest Lily.

It was on this day, however, the morning of 'The Question to Be Asked' that James Potter's typical morning routine became, in fact, quite _atypical. _He woke up at exactly 7:15am. He pressed the snooze button twice. He slept two minutes over the second alarm and fumbled blindly for his glasses. He knocked over the three standard items and swung his feet out of bed. He customarily yelped as his feet touched the cold wooden floor and hurriedly squiggled his toes in the carpet... only to find that the carpet was moved one hop to the left. As James' brain made this startling revelation (approximately 2.87 seconds after his feet had registered the too-soon-toe-squiggle) he knew something was odd about this day. He made his way down the stairs and went to make himself a cup of coffee... only to realise with a start that _his _crimson checked coffee mug was _missing. _As James looked at the offending articles, he realised that something shocking had happened. Someone had stolen his favourite mug, in order to disrupt his perfect morning regime. Just when he was contemplating alerting the Order of the Phoenix about this mug theft (with it obviously being the work of Death Eaters who wanted to destroy the Order one morning routine a time) the most alluring smell reached his long nose.

He closed his eyes and took one long sniff of the beautiful smell. It was the most glorious scent he had ever experienced; the smell of ground coffee beans, mixed with steaming hot water, three sugars and milk. He followed his nose to the beautiful smell, his hazel eyes glazed over. He opened his eyes as the smell became stronger and was suddenly glad he had decided to look at the burglar that stole his coffee mug. There she was, standing in the middle of his living room; the missing mug of coffee in her left hand, a photograph of The Marauders, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, in her right. Her long auburn hair was a cascade of loose curls over one shoulder, and her almond-shaped emerald green eyes were focussed intently on one person in the photo. Him. James watched as she licked her soft lips before taking a sip of the coffee. As she stood there, not noticing him, it was time James decided he would notice her. She was wearing his t-shirt; but not any t-shirt. It was his favourite. Grey, with a big yellow smiley face in the centre over the chest. James leant over slightly, craning his body into an awkward position to take in the rest of her outfit before he flushed crimson and coughed, rather flustered.

His Lily Evans, his beautiful goddess, was standing there in little more than his favourite t-shirt and a pair of shorts that could never pass for clothing in any _normal _society. In James' society, however, he would firmly attest that all women should wear shorts of that length. He made his way over to her, grinning as he saw the surprised look in her green eyes. They were sparkling with early morning stupor- not quite asleep, but not bright enough to be fully awake. He took the mug off coffee off her along with the photo, setting them on the low, long table in front of the couch. He was just about to lean in, his hands resting on the t-shirt, ready to whip it off, before something loud began to buzz.

It was a very irritating noise. A loud, beeping noise of sorts. A noise that was steadily growing louder, whilst Lily became fuzzier. His vision became blurred and just as he revealed a sliver of his girlfriend's stomach... she vanished and James was suddenly lying in his bed, without his glasses on and with a rather irritating problem.

At this rate, James was never going to find out what happened at the end of that dream.


End file.
